


Restless

by AntsySerpentine



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Blood, Gamma Spartan OC, Mentions of Violence, Other, Spartan III OC, Spartan OC, themes of post traumatic stress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23628340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntsySerpentine/pseuds/AntsySerpentine
Summary: On one of Salvador's nightly walks, he tries to piece together the events that led to his injuries, though he finds himself more often bothered by it than he would like to admit.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Restless

**Author's Note:**

> Helios-G249 belongs to WinterXAssassin uwu (https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterXAssassin)

Restless. 

Salvador was ever so restless. Sleep was a forced chore for him, especially when he started to find that his mind would start to wander on it's own.

This time in particular, he was trying to piece together the pieces that led to the explosion. He was trying to remember the fragments of the event, trying to recover glimpses of the past.

The only thing he remembered was the flash of light, the high pitched screaming in his ears, the feeling of shrapnel and glass protruding from his skin.

He remembered the feeling of skin being seared from the blast. He remembered the reverberating force that rattled his augmented body to the bone, he remembered his feet leaving the ground and landing in an awkward position.

He remembered feeling the strain of his bones under the weight of the surrounding debris. He remembered feeling the fractures beginning to run down the length of his arm.

He remembered seeing red, the pungent smell of seared hair and charred skin. He remembered the strong coppery taste in his mouth as it dribbled from his lips, rolling off of his chin and down his neck. 

The last thing he could remember was a shriek, belonging to Helios before everything went black entirely.

* * *

Salvador remembered waking up being unable to see anything. Bandages were wrapped around his head, but even then he could feel that something was off. Something was horribly horribly off. He could hear through the wrappings, though everything was muffled, he could still detect general noise. Noise that would vanish if it moved to his left side.

That was more than enough to set him on edge, as Salvador was one of the more particularly excitable of the Gammas. Panic rose in his chest and he moved to try and sit up straight, but a firm hand clasped to his shoulder prevented the movement.  
  
“You need to rest. You were almost lost on the way back.” The voice was stern, tense, full of concern, and he could immediately recognize it belonging to Kurt. His grip tightened for a brief moment before releasing his hold, Salvador finally deciding to stay reclined on the bed.

_‘Since when did my life start to have any meaning to anyone? ’_

Salvador remembered having to hold his tongue, teeth sinking into his cheeks to keep the venom from seeping out and into his words. 

_‘Why now? How long did it take for us to have any value? How many of us had to die before you finally decided we were worth keeping alive?’_

The tightness that was beginning to form in his chest quickly grew hot, Salvador clenching both of his fists and keeping them close to his sides. He could feel the tremble in his body, he could feel his own frustration become the main center of his thoughts as he struggled in biting back the urge to lash out.

Salvador forced himself to swallow the rising bile, grinding his teeth against the tender skin on the inside of his mouth, the familiar taste of copper greeting his tongue once more. 

“Where’s Helios-?”

His own voice was raspy, making him feel more pathetic than he already was feeling. If she was in the room he would have already sensed her, or felt her presence by his side. But he could feel that he wasn’t alone in the room with the older Spartan. He could feel someone was on his left side, but he couldn’t determine who it was.

It wasn’t until a soft placement of a hand on his arm that he could truly identify the presence of the person on his left side. The contact nearly made him flinch, as he had no way of being able to hear, to pick up any tell-tale feelings before then. His question seemed to answer itself, his fellow Spartan gently patting his forearm to make her presence known to him. 

_‘Why couldn’t I feel her?’_

* * *

Salvador continued fiddling with the knife in his hands as he paced back and forth. His balance was off, he was still having to adjust to the change, and it was horribly disorienting. He could only stand to be active for so much time before he had to sit down and rest. He loathed it. 

Another spin and a twirl of the blade followed, his attention shifting back to what he was doing. He wasn’t able to see and perceive depth as he used to be able to, and despite that, he still tossed it up, watching it fall as he reached out to grab it again. The Spartan fumbled in the catch, and while he managed to keep from dropping it, he earned a new gash that stretched across the palm of his hand. 

_‘Just a scratch.’_

He mumbled a swear or two to himself before he decided enough was enough for now. The Spartan slid the blade back into its sheath, a soft click sounding to indicate it was in all the way.

Being placed outside of active duty for the moment was starting to do a number on his peace of mind. Sure, he needed to recover still, but he was impatient, stubborn and hard headed. It was hard to have to stay still, it was hard to not do anything when for most of his life, Salvador was regularly on the move.

The Spartan tugged a small set of bandages from the recesses of the pockets in his fatigues, half heartedly wrapping up the fresh wound to keep the crimson from dripping down his arm and onto the floor. It stung, but just barely. There were at least some advantages to having a higher pain tolerance, this was one of them.

Salvador fashioned the wrappings to halt halfway down his forearm, styled more like the wrappings he would generally wear to train in the gym facilities. It would be fine for now. He won’t have anyone breathing down his neck about it this way.

Wriggling his fingers, he would soon decide to wrap up his other hand, just for the sake of the wrappings matching one another. It was still late in the night, the silence almost a blessing to his senses. It was much less hectic to wander around now than it was to wander during the day, where his ‘dead’ side is much more glaringly obvious to others.

A weakness, he dubbed it. A handicap, a liability, an injury he would never be able to fully recover from. He hated this fact with a bitterness, and it was very well known. He can feel the pity that comes from the gazes of other people. 

Pity towards the scarred and disfigured section of his face. The probing stares that feel loud from the silent passerbys. He was used to receiving stares before, that's just the reality of being a Spartan. However, the unwanted attention his injuries gathered only seemed to make an exponential increase after he was cleared to leave the medbay.

So at night, Salvador would roam around, stretching his legs, trying to adjust to his losses. It wasn’t easy, but it was nicer to mess up when nobody else could see him.

Restless pacing would continue throughout the halls. It would soon become a routine for Salvador’s personal escape, his only solace for when the memories of the incident return to haunt him.


End file.
